Hunger
by Eternallybills
Summary: This story takes place during S1E1. It is written from Bill's POV, and describes the electric chemistry between him and a certain telepathic waitress. Hunger explains why he came into Merlotte's, and why he left with the Rattray. Romantic and HOT!
1. Chapter 1

**Genre**: Romance and SMUT!

**About**: Bill and Sookie, Bill POV

**Rating**: NC-17/MA

**NOTE: I have taken some artistic license with the dialogue. Most is lifted directly from the show, but I have reordered it and combined two scenes, for story-telling purposes. Please just go with it.**

**Plea from the author:** Reviews are lifeblood to a writer. Please – FEED ME! Like Bill, I am _**HUNGRY!**_ Author/story alerts and favourites designations are tremendously flattering, but reviews, even critical ones, are orgasmic! It doesn't need to be long, or even terribly coherent. Tell me a line you particularly liked, or one you didn't think rang true. Give me a suggestion for the next chapter or another story. Good, bad or indifferent, your feedback makes my day. I even promise to write back and thank you.

**Disclaimer**: Bill and Sookie are not mine (but I wish Bill were – I promise I'd take REALLY good care of him!): they are creations of Charlaine Harris, brought to the screen by Alan Ball. I have not read the books, and my interpretation is based solely on the 24 episodes of seasons 1 and 2. I take no responsibility for any revelations to come in subsequent seasons.

This story was written to answer a question debated on some of the discussion boards I've visited: Why did Bill leave Merlotte's with the Rattrays in E1? And what did Bill really think of Sookie when they first met?

To fans of my other story, "No Thrill Left in Feeding on the Willing," I will return to Eric and Laura at a later date. This story has a much darker tone than that one. I hope you will take a chance on a Bill fic, even if you prefer the Viking and his glorious plenty. To Bill fans who avoid Eric fic, please try my other story – you might find His Snarkiness grows on you a bit, especially when he's out of Bill's and Sookie's hair!

_**Hunger**_

**CHAPTER 1**

Who would have thought my final death would be more ironic than my life? The _Great Revelation_ was supposed to make the world safer for my kind, but here I am, in graver danger from humans than I have ever been. Once they understood that vampires did not need to kill or feed on them to survive, humans were supposed to be willing to co-exist. But the prey has become predator, learning our weaknesses and discovering our gifts. I, William Compton, who so richly deserved to be staked during the decades I served as Lorena's monster, am now being drained while trying to mainstream and reform. I, who survived all these years from pursuit by the strong and the clever – weres, vampires, human authorities – am meeting the true death at the hands of ignorant, V-addicted, backwater trailer trash. And all because of a _waitress_?

No, she was something more than a waitress. Something more than human, too, although I couldn't put my finger on what. She intrigued me, _mesmerized_ me. From the moment I saw her, I knew she would change my existence. I just had no idea she would lead to its end.

How did I ever get to this? Returning to my ancestral home of Bon Temps seemed like a sensible idea at the time. My last living descendant, Jessie Compton, had died with no heirs, leaving me free to inherit my old home (assuming the VRA passed). No one complained when I moved in and began renovations, although whether that was because of acceptance, tolerance, ignorance or fear, I do not know. I kept largely to myself, and the town's inhabitants let me be. Until tonight.

Tonight, I was restless and I let my guard down. The house flooded me with memories, bitter-sweet remembrances of my darling Caroline and the children, stolen from me, ripped out of my veins by that she-demon, Lorena. She made me forget my humanity, but I battled my way back to it over the decades since my release. I found some semblance of decency deep inside me, and I joined the fight for the _Great Revelation_, convinced it would be my salvation, my path to recovery. Returning to this house had brought me brief moments of peace and comfort, but tonight its ghosts haunted me. This was our wedding anniversary, and I hungered not for blood, but for simple, human companionship. Foolishly, I did not realize how deep my other needs ran.

I had heard that the locals frequented a bar not far from here, Merlotte's. I imprudently assumed they would carry TruBlood, and that I could slake my thirst and ease my loneliness among my new neighbours. It started out harmlessly enough; no one seemed to take much notice of me at first, except for the perky, blond waitress who stared wordlessly at me when I sat down. It wasn't the leer of a fangbanger, the glare of a vampirephobe or even the curiosity of the ignorant. There was a connection in that look, and I was spellbound.

She turned to speak to her co-workers, but her posture spoke volumes – she was pleased to see a vampire in the bar, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her pad and pen, she positively bounded over to my table. "Hi! What can I get for you tonight?" She seemed painfully young and naïve, but that was understandable; I was the first vampire she had ever met. She approached me not with fear, but with excitement, like a child enthralled by her first glimpse of fire, thrilled by the novelty and oblivious to the danger.

She apologized when I ordered a TruBlood, unable to wipe the infectious grin off her face. She might have _been_ sorry, but she didn't _look_ it – she looked positively gleeful. "We don't carry it. Sam got some a year ago, but nobody ever ordered it, so it went bad. You're our first. _Vampire_," she giggled, whispering what I was as if using a delightfully dirty and forbidden word. But I found it impossible to be annoyed – her candour and lack of fear were completely enchanting.

Her demeanour wasn't all that was holding my interest. Her clothing left little to my imagination, and while I tend to prefer a more demure form of dress, I could appreciate the charms she was displaying. Her skin-tight t-shirt revealed an ample bosom, round, firm, and I was sure, _delicious_. Her shorts were barely more than panties, showing off shapely, tanned legs and a tight little backside with which I found myself longing to become better acquainted. _What kind of a woman dresses that way?_ I _knew_ what kind, and I knew what I wanted to do. I could picture myself leaping over the table, ripping her clothes off with my teeth, taking her there, in the middle of the bar, making her _**MINE**_ for all to see. I wanted her blood, her body, her screams of pleasure.

I shook myself – this was most unbecoming behaviour, even in a fantasy. She had not _chosen_ to dress this way; she was merely wearing the required uniform that all the waitresses sported. I glanced at the bar's owner. My eyes narrowed. Hmm... a _shifter_! Filthy creatures – I should have picked up his scent immediately. So typical of a shifter to treat a woman like an animal. Very well then, _I_ would treat her with the respect she no doubt deserved, even in my very fertile imagination.

I read her nametag. "Sookie," I said, "that's an unusual name. Is it short for anything?" My chest was as tight as her shirt, and it made my voice deep and husky. Her name came out "Sooookeh," and I could see that I was not the only one feeling sparks between us – her nipples strained her shirt and her pupils dilated an inch or two. "N…no," she stuttered, quite flustered, now. "Just p-plain old Sookie. What's _your_ name?" At my reply, she dissolved into peals of girlish laughter. "_Bill_? I thought it might be Antoine or Basil or like, Langford, maybe. But _Bill_? Vampire _Bill_? Oh my!"

I didn't hide my exasperation well, and that sobered her, somewhat. "Is…is there anything else you drink?" she asked me, trying to regain her composure. She was still positively beaming at this wonder in front of her. "Actually, no," I replied, smiling, "but you can get me a glass of red wine, so that I have a reason to be here." She rewarded me with a wide, toothy grin, and I noticed the gap in her front teeth. I imagined myself getting lost in that gap, flicking my tongue between those teeth, giving her reasons to smile. _Where was this coming from? _My stomach rumbled and I realized that she was arousing several appetites at once. _Damn!_ _I should have had a TruBlood before I left the house._ "Well," she replied, oblivious to, or ignoring, the effects she was having on me, "whatever the reason, I'm glad you are."

She turned and sashayed away, her ponytail swinging in time with her hips. Despite my promise, I stared at her shorts-clad behind in a most _ungentlemanly_ manner. I closed my eyes and imagined taking her for a walk in the moonlight …

_**Would you like to read more? Then show me the love, people, and give me some feedback, please! Chapter 2 is written but not finalized. And 3 is conceptualized but not written. So you can have input and influence!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Let the SMUT begin!..._

**CHAPTER 2**

I asked her to meet me after her shift, and she agreed, forgetting the price cats pay for their curiosity. It was a warm, clear night, and we decided to follow the moon down to the water. "Aren't you worried about being alone with a hungry vampire?" I asked. She shrugged off my question. "Vampires often turn on those who trust them, you know. We don't have human values like you," I warned her. "A lot of humans turn on those who trust them, too," she replied. I shook my head and smiled. "What _are_ you?" I asked her, but she was not willing yet to share her mysteries. No matter – I had secrets of my own.

We reached the water. I sat beneath a tree and spread my jacket out for her, offering her my hand. She sat beside me and leaned back against the tree, rewarding me with that delightful, toothy smile. We both kicked off our shoes, letting the damp grass tickle our bare feet. "A vampire, in Bon Temps!" she marvelled. "You'd be surprised where vampires turn up," I said. She looked at me, quizzically, but I was in no mood to chat. I leaned in close, following the current of electricity that had not stopped pulsing between us all evening. She didn't move, but I could hear her breath quicken, see the pulse racing in the veins of her golden neck. I licked my lips – I could almost taste her through the air. I stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes, the slightest moan escaping her sweet lips. She leaned her head back – did she realize how exposed her neck was? – and I buried my nose in her throat, inhaling her sweet aroma all the way up to her ear. My eyes widened – _I could smell the sunlight on her skin!_ I brushed her face with my lips, and she met them with her own, welcoming my still gentle kisses.

She was content to let me lead, and she refused me nothing. My kisses grew deeper, more passionate, and she matched me touch for touch. I probed her mouth softly with my tongue, and she parted her lips to grant me entrance. Her tongue met mine awkwardly at first, then followed me into a more artful pas-de-deux. _Was she as naïve and inexperienced as she had initially seemed? _Lorena always claimed that I delighted in ravishing the chaste, but what she took to be predation was actually empathy; I remembered what it was like to lose one's innocence. I took a deep breath, not for air, but to clear my mind; I needed to be gentle with this woman-child.

"Sookie," I murmured in her ear, feeling the jolt I caused just by saying her name. "What do you want from me tonight?"

"Everything," she responded, breathlessly. "Show me. Teach me. Free me." My fangs sprang out, and I turned away, worried about frightening or repulsing her. But she put her hand on my chin and turned my face back towards her. "I know what you are," she assured me, "and I'm not afraid. I trust you to be gentle with me. But not _too_ gentle." I fought back a growl; she had no idea what she was doing to me, or what I longed to do to her.

"Sookie," I groaned, "you are playing with fire. I am _hungry_ for you, in every sense of the word. I cannot promise that I will remain a gentleman if you keep acting this way."

"If I wanted a gentleman," she replied coyly, "I wouldn't be out here with a vampire!"

Part of me should have been offended, but I was feeling far too lustful to care. "Take off your uniform," I asked her, as gently as I could. "I don't trust myself not to rip your clothes to shreds." She blushed a lovely shade of rose. "You first," she insisted, eyes downcast. _Of course_. I slowed things down, for both our sakes, undoing my buttons languidly, peeling my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms, letting it drop seductively. I needed her deeply aroused, or I feared that I might hurt her. I stood up, unclasped my belt, and inched my zipper down. Her heavy breath reassured me, and I let my trousers fall to the ground.

She drank me in. "Your turn," I said, and she complied, standing and tossing off the shirt and shorts without fuss. Her bra and panties were dainty and demure, lacy, pink and feminine. This girl was no slattern, and I was awed by her loveliness. I wrapped my arms around her, and she shivered. "I'm afraid I'm not as warm as the men you must be accustomed to," I apologized. "What men?" she scoffed. I dropped to my knees to worship her, raining kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, her thighs. She trembled at my every touch.

I pulled her down and laid her on my jacket, cushioning her head with my rolled up shirt. I lowered the straps of her bra down her arms, tracing the top of the cups with my tongue. She was as delectable as I had imagined. I peeled the cups down, one at a time, and stopped to admire the view: perfect, golden orbs (she had obviously found a very private place to sun-bathe), nipples cherry red and standing at attention. I flicked my tongue and circled one, then blew on it; her entire body shook. I took one perfect globe into my mouth, cupping the other in my hand. I teased the points and kneaded the spheres, eliciting mewls of pleasure. I began to shiver, myself; it was taking all my self control not to attack: to bite and feed and fuck. She deserved better than that, and I was determined to give it to her. I was my own creation, now, not Lorena's. I would not take, but give.

The rest of our clothing melted away – I don't remember how. I held her in my arms, stroking, licking, kissing, squeezing, marvelling at how good she looked and smelled and tasted. I kissed my way down her body, penning love notes with my tongue. I raked my fangs along her thighs and nipped at them lightly. I lowered my mouth onto her delicate mound, teasing the silky blond curls, parting them with my lips. She moaned deeply, and covered herself with her hands, excited but suddenly shy. I took her wrists in my hands and raised her arms over her head, pinning them down. "Don't resist me, Sookie. Let me pleasure you." She submitted to my tender ministrations. I ran my hands back down her body, fascinated by each curve. She squirmed under my gentle touch, and allowed me to spread her legs. I returned to her delicate folds, now wet and eager for my attention. I reached underneath her hips and grasped her comely backside, caressing her cheeks and lifting her honeyed flower to my mouth. I circled her nub with the tip of my tongue, feeling it harden, then throb. I lapped at it, drinking her sweet nectar, imaging how glorious her blood was going to taste. She was groaning, now, writhing beneath me, grabbing my hair in her fists. I entered her with my tongue, probing her passage deeper and deeper, massaging her clit with my thumb. Her body went totally rigid and she began to quake, lifting her hips to grind against me. Her groans became growls and then gasps and then screams. "OH! MY! STAARRRRRS!" she yelled, and collapsed back on the ground.

I kissed her forehead, cheeks and eyes. I stroked her hair and neck. _Sookie, Sookie – was that what you wanted? Needed?_ She looked up at me with misty eyes, and I gasped. Her expression was everything – redemption in a single glance! I knew if I had done nothing else in my dark existence, I had brought this sweet soul a moment's peace and joy. "Thank you," she breathed, melting my unbeating heart. I kissed her, letting her taste her own juices on my lips. My body tensed, my muscles tightened. She felt me harden against her. Everything rumbled and throbbed. Damn, I was _**SO HUNGRY!**_ I did not know how much longer I could hold back, or if she would be ready.

"Bill," she whispered, reaching for me, "I want this, too. I just don't know what to do. Please, Bill, take me, make me yours. I've waited so long for this. I'd given up on this. _Please_, Bill." I leaned down for another kiss. She slipped her tongue between my lips and I admitted her eagerly. She moaned into my mouth and raked her nails down my back, sending shivers up my spine. She grabbed my butt, pulling me closer to her, and I readied myself for what I hoped would be a gentle entrance. And then… she parted her lips and licked me, up and down my _fangs_. _**Oh my G-d, Sookie - NO! Not that!**_

Something inside me snapped. Something feral sprang and grew, devouring me from within. Waves of pain and loss and lust gushed through the dam of my restraint. Every human impulse in me crumbled into dust. Vampire blood, _Lorena's_ blood, commanded me again. I no longer _**felt**_ hunger, I _**became**_ hunger: insatiable need coursed through my veins. I roared at her, but I could no longer see nor hear. I bit… I tore… I fed… she _screamed_…

"Don't mind Sookie, none, Mister," the dreadful troll in the booth behind me drawled, shaking me from my nightmarish reverie. "She's crazy as a bedbug!"

_Enjoying the story? Hating it? Something in-between? Please take a moment or two and leave a comment. Specifics (a particular line that you liked or that didn't work for you) are particularly valuable. Writing brings out the neediness in some of us – so please show us some love and tell us what you think when you read the stories on this site._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I have taken artistic license and changed the order of the dialogue from the first show, in order to tell a story.**

**REVIEWS, PLEASE!** Reviews are lifeblood to a writer. Please – FEED ME! Like Bill, I am _**HUNGRY!**_ Author/story alerts and favourites designations are tremendously flattering, but reviews, even critical ones, are orgasmic!

**Disclaimer**: Bill and Sookie are not mine. **I have not read the books, and my interpretation is based solely on the 24 episodes of Seasons 1 and 2** of True Blood, written by Alan Ball and his talented team.

**CHAPTER 3**

"Mah name's Mac. Rattray," He was short and bald with a straggly goatee and close-set, beady eyes. I could imagine Gollum stroking a ring and cooing for his "precious," but I suspected that _I_ might be the treasure that he sought. Was he a fangbanger, or was I just a novelty? Did he want to be the first on his block to have a vampire? His heavy twang and rudeness toward Sookie suggested questionable breeding and worse education.

"This here's mah wife, Denise." His equally repulsive spouse leered at me. To say she looked "cheap" would be an insult to cheap women. Everything about her screamed "wanton:" lips, nails and hair in various shades of hellfire, drug-store red; micro jean shorts designed for a girl half her age and suitable for one who earned her living on her back; a low-cut, clingy, sleeveless top that barely contained her breasts, its bright red and silver fabric making her look like a dime-store Christmas ornament.

"Hell-llo," she purred, like a stalking wildcat, making me wonder who the real vampire was in this establishment. It reminded me of an expression my Mama used to like: _Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly._ If it had been possible, I would have blushed. I hoped that I had never looked at any woman the way Mac's wife was looking at me; she made me feel like I was dinner.

"Good evening," I replied, turning back to watch Sookie's departure. These two were not what I had in mind for companionship, but I did not wish to be rude; I meant to make this town my home, so I cared what people thought.

"You're new in town, aren't you, Darlin'?" the woman asked, surely already knowing the answer. Bon Temps was a tiny place, where neighbours knew each other's business intimately. A stranger, especially one as pale as I am, would be noticed immediately. "Why don't you come and join us?" she offered. I reasoned that I was less likely to jump on Sookie while in close proximity to others. They might be a distraction, a chance to regain my composure. I walked over to their booth, and Denise scooted over to make room. Mac smiled a nasty, lecherous grin. I tried not to shudder – _who was scaring whom_? But repulsive as they were, they might prove useful. While their _company_ was not what I desired, I had other, more pressing, needs I suspected they might be willing to fulfil.

Ah yes, my needs. I had not felt this out of control since I had first been turned. Why did that waitress have such an effect on me? Was there something so different about her, or had I simply gone too long without tending to my physical requirements? I knew better than to let things get this out of hand, but my judgement had been impaired by my return to the Compton house. It had been two days since I'd drunk _TruBlood_ and three weeks since I'd last had real blood or sex. The donor clinic I usually visited in Monroe had closed down for renovations, leaving me dependant on that synthetic swill or live feeding. Yes, I toed the party line on _TruBlood_: _You get used to the taste, it's not so bad, it fulfills all our nutritional needs…blah, blah, blah._ I _drank_ it, but I did not _like_ it, and some days, it simply was not sufficient. Besides, it only fed one type of hunger, and that was never enough for a vampire. For the rest, one needed a partner. I stayed clear of sex with other vampires; in fact, I tended to stay clear of other vampires, period. I found many of my kind cold-hearted and cruel, to humans and to each other. The politics and brutal justice I could not escape, but I certainly did not need – or want – to socialize with the undead. It inevitably led to pressure to join a nest, something I had resolved to avoid – Liam, Diane and Malcolm had cured me of that desire, forever.

Human interactions posed their own set of problems. Before _TruBlood_ and the Revelation, I had had little choice: vampires took what they needed and covered their tracks. The cruel and reckless killed; the more prudent and benevolent glamoured. But I had largely given up on glamour, too. It seemed only like a kinder, gentler rape, if such a thing were possible. I always made sure to provide pleasure to my "victim" (after 143 years, I had become quite skilled at that), but I still felt that the lady deserved a choice. I had, on occasion, met brave and curious women who guessed – and accepted – what I was, and I had managed to find some mutual enjoyment with them: Juliet*, in particular, came to mind. But these relationships always ended in heartbreak. I could inspire love in humans, care about them, long for them, but I could not love them back – at least not the way they needed me to. That part of me died over a century ago, its memory erased by decades in purgatory, enslaved by the devil herself. I was a generous – but cold – lover, in all senses of the word, and I hurt the humans who trusted me, as much as I tried not to. The more I looked and acted like a human, the more they had expected me to be one. But I am NOT human, not anymore; I am vampire, my reluctance notwithstanding.

And now there was a whole new breed of humans: the fangbangers. They should have made my existence so much simpler, but they were an entirely new torment. I am a product of my upbringing; Lorena had never managed to drain the Southern gentleman completely out of me. I still yearn for some connection, even if love remains impossible for me. The fangbangers crave the vampire that I long to escape, the feral monster that I never want to be. They feed me their blood and their bodies, but I am the one consumed and devoured; they suck the spirit out of me, glorifying everything I hate about myself. Sex with a fangbanger leaves me feeling full but dissatisfied, my deepest hunger unsated.

This is my dilemma, the dichotomy of my unlife: play "human," deny my inner beast, and break some poor soul's heart, or play the brute, deny what little humanity remains in me, and sink deeper into darkness. I am two beings battling within one mind; if I cannot accept myself, how can I expect a human to? Coming back to Bon Temps had only intensified these feelings; it made me want so badly to be human, and forced me to admit that I am not.

So, I had relied on _TruBlood_ and distraction for the past three weeks, since moving back to my human home. I buried myself in my work, the hard physical labour of renovating the house. The task satisfied me on so many levels: it kept me busy, it taxed my strength and it allowed me to pretend that I was rebuilding part of what I lost so many years ago. But a man can deny his needs for only so long and a vampire even less so. If humans are servants to their desires, vampires are slaves to theirs, something I had foolishly chosen to forget. Well, my masters were angry with me now, and they were demanding retribution. My Sookie-fantasy-gone-wrong was the final proof I needed; the beast within was hungry, and it was demanding to be fed.

"Ah mean, people have always discriminated against me," Denise drawled, using what I guessed was her "come hither," voice, drawing suggestive circles on my shoulder. I noticed that one of her fingernails was broken, its jagged edges catching on my jacket.

"Oh boy, have they ever!" her husband winked. He seemed tense, anxious, and I detected a slight tremor, but I dismissed it as anticipation of the sordid tryst I assumed he was trying to orchestrate.

"And just because ah never felt like being what society wanted me to be, you know?" she whined. I found myself siding with "society" at that moment; it probably had merely asked her to stop being such a whore and bitch. My mind's language shocked me. I was brought up to treat all women with respect, to assume their virtue even in the absence of its proof. But this creature clutching at me was making it almost impossible. It was not just her attire or the way she was throwing herself at me (in front of her husband, no less!) that was revolting me. Malevolence seemed to be radiating off her in waves. This woman was colder, harder stone than I could ever be; she was clearly used to taking what she wanted. "So we know what it's been like for you," she cooed.

I doubted that, most sincerely.

"We thought you might like a little … _company_ tonight," Denise breathed in my ear, her husband grinning like an idiot across the table. She licked my earlobe and stroked my thigh; her breath smelled of onion rings, beer and – ugh! – _garlic_. This meal would repeat on me for days. She noticed my erection and mistook it for a compliment. "Oh… ah see that ah was right."

"Have you ever had sex with one of my kind?" I asked her gruffly, posing it as a warning more than a question.

"Ah read in _The Enquirer_ that _everyone_ should have sex with a vampire at least once in their lives," she flirted, batting Wal✭Mart eyelashes in my direction. Her taste in reading material did not surprise me.

"It can be quite violent," I cautioned, lust and repulsion turning my voice into a growl. If we were going to do this, I wanted them to go in with eyes wide open. She licked her lips and leered. Clearly I had not misjudged them.

"That's all right, Mister," her husband smirked. "She _likes_ it rough. And ah like watching someone give it to her that way." I shuddered, my gorge rising – and it takes a LOT to make a vampire gag! What kind of man does this to his wife? Even _she_ did not deserve such disrespect. I understood that this encounter would not be pleasant, but I wasn't looking for pleasure, just release. The inner beast needed to be fed, then to be locked safely away again. As for the husband, perhaps I could put the fear of G-d in him, or at least fear of the vampire. I hoped that when I was through, he would never again want to turn her over to another man.

Sookie returned with our drinks, looking very dismayed with my new companions. "Can I get y'all anything else?" she asked. She meant to sound cheerful, but I heard the strain in her voice. She looked as if she was listening to a conversation I couldn't hear, like she was reading our thoughts. _Don't be ridiculous!_ I told myself. _Mind reading is science-fiction – she's not a Vulcan or a Betazoid!_ _But then again, one needn't be a telepath to read the sexual tension in this room, or to have a vampire's sense of smell to pick up on the pheromones I'm generating_. I felt ashamed – I did not want her to think that it was the loathsome Mrs. Rattray who was having this effect on me.

Denise was pawing at my thigh and positively salivating, her eyes pure lust. Ordinarily, I do not mind a woman looking at me with desire – in fact, I find it quite arousing. But there was not a shred of goodwill in her gaze, no sign of anticipation of the pleasure to be shared. It was a look of possession, of rapaciousness and greed. I felt like she was measuring me, sizing me up, calculating how much this bull would bring at the auction. Only one other person had ever looked at me that way: Denise's resemblance to Lorena at that moment made me cringe.

Sookie stared at her, shocked, then looked at me with panic. "I'm gonna bring y'all a free round of beer, OK? Don't you go _anywhere_," she stammered, looking directly at me. _What was that all about?_ I wondered. Mac looked annoyed. Sookie ran back into the kitchen. Watching her, my excitement rose again, the painful bulge straining against my trousers. This was no longer hunger, but famine; there comes a point when nature simply cannot be denied. Lorena's blood called to me, her four-step mantra of predation ringing in my ears: "_Find. Fuck. Feed. Forget_." I knew that I would not be able to resist if I got Sookie alone, and the longer I waited, the worse it would become. But something about her made me feel protective, and the one she most required protection from was me. I needed to get away from her, fast, and these two monsters were my way out. We were gone before she returned.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, hoping it was not too far; I was growing faint with hunger, now.

"Ah can't wait; let's do it, here," the trollop said, pointing to the wooded area beside the parking lot. I did not argue – vampires are many things, but bashful is not one of them. We ducked behind some trees. I grabbed her long, stringy hair and pulled it back, exposing her thin, white neck; it bent easily in my strong hands. I bared my fangs and growled – this was a meal LONG overdue. "Wait!" she protested. "We'll get to that. But first, there's something _Ah _want to taste. Ever since I laid eyes on you, Mister, Ah've had a hankerin' for some vampire cock." She licked her lips and I moaned, despite myself. Very well, one hunger appeased was as good as another, at least for now. "Lie down and close your eyes," she directed. Ah'll tell you when you can open them." Stupidly, I did as she requested, blinded by my desire and need. And suddenly, the predator became the prey.

She leapt upon my chest and grabbed my arms, her speed stunning me, and she pinned me long enough for him to stretch the silver chain across my throat. She wound the ends of the long strand around both my wrists, immobilizing my upper body. The silver burned into my skin and began to sap my strength. I looked her deeply in the eyes and cleared my mind as best I could. "Denise," I intoned, slowly and calmly, "_listen_ to me. Can you feel my influence?" Mac punched his fist into my mouth, burning my tongue repeatedly with three large silver rings I had failed to notice earlier. By the time I was able to speak again, I no longer had the strength to glamour. Did they recognized what a weakened state I had been in tonight, or was this simply the dumb luck of dumb brutes? On any other night, I could have easily killed them both.

"Why are you doing this?" I choked out painfully, but I knew even before she removed the equipment from her sack: the tubes, syringes and plastic bags removed all doubt. They were not just low-lives; they were Drainers – dealers in hallucinogenic vampire blood. It was the reason we hid the properties of "V," as the addicts called it, from the mainstream press. It made us far too tempting, too vulnerable to an attack. Buying V, even from a willing vampire, became a grave offence to my kind, and any human caught doing so faced a slow and painful death, as both a punishment and a warning to others. These two would not survive for long, but at this rate, neither would I. They attached the tubes to both my arms.

And so I lie here, fangs bared but impotent, feeling what passes for life drain out of me. It seems as if every human I ever killed has come back to watch my trial, to witness my final judgement and cheer on my execution. A fitting end, I suppose, to a brutish and violent journey. My hunger and arousal have drained out of me with my blood – I feel almost nothing but regret.

Should I have taken my chances tonight with Sookie? No, better this. I would have surely caused her harm, one more horror I could not bear to live with. The blood of innocents has turned bitter on my tongue, and I would rather be the hunted than the hunter. But I cannot fight my nature any longer, even if I do not embrace it. Perhaps mainstreaming is another lie I told myself, another myth we invented to hide behind. I never chose this existence, and I will not be sorry to see it end. I almost welcome the true death, but I am mourning my life, my _human_ life, again.

"Hurry," Mac urges his wife, desperation creeping into his voice. He is grasping his temples with his stubby fingers, as if trying to clear his head.

"We should have taken him home," she complains, kneeling beside me and checking the tubes. She watches greedily as my blood fills up the bags. I find myself wishing that it will bring them nothing but grief.

"Too dangerous. Where are we gonna hide a dead vampire in our trailer." There is no doubt, then – they mean to drain me completely.

"Well at least we wouldn't be out in the fuckin' open like this," she spits at him. They are not exactly Romeo and Juliet, these two. _Can I use their conflict to my advantage in some way?_

Mac begins to shake. He laces his hands behind his head, a grimace on his face. He paces anxiously. "Ah just need some V juice and ah need it bad. Mah body is starting to hurt an' ah just need to git it in me." A dealer _and_ an addict – no wonder he was willing to risk her safety for this! But this is another weakness to be exploited.

"Gawdammit, Mac, you're a fuckin' drug addict, you know that?" she snarls at him with contempt.

"Woman would you just shut the fuck up?" he yells. Good Lord! Do my final moments on this earth really have to be spent listening to the Rattrays spew their venom? Two deaths in one lifetime, both horrors: first Lorena and now these two. I suppose it is fitting retribution for my sins. I focus on the woods and try to tune them out. If I can clear my mind, I may find a way to escape.

_What is that?_ My attackers don't notice, too engaged in their Jerry Springer moment, but my hearing is far superior to theirs. My night vision, too; I see movement, something creeping through the trees. _Sookie! Has she been a part of this, all along? Have I so misjudged her?_ No, she nods to me, a signal – _Keep them distracted_. I turn back to Denise, who is fussing with the bags, and I pull against the silver to divert her attention. What is that in Sookie's hands – a _chain_? How will _that_ help? Doesn't she realize I am in no position to protect her?

Mac continues to berate his dreadful spouse. "Sometimes, when you talk, this I what I hear: 'a'yidda, yidda, yidda, yidda.'" He is so engrossed in his twin battles, with Denise and his withdrawal symptoms, he does not hear Sookie approach him from behind. She folds the heavy chain in two, winds up and strikes him across the head and shoulders; she fells him with a single stroke.

"You crazy bitch," he yells, wheeling around to face her and pulling a knife from his back pocket. He lunges and thrusts the blade at her. I strain against my bonds, but I am going nowhere. Sookie throws the chain at Mac with all her might. It snakes around his neck, constricting like a boa, squeezing the breath out of him. Mac sinks back to his knees, gasping, and his weapon slips from his grasp. Denise ignores her husband's pleas for help, intent upon his discarded weapon. Sookie beats her to it and forces her away from me.

"This 'aint your business, you stupid cunt." Denise snarls at her. Mac claws at the tightening chain, gasping, his eyes wide in fear and amazement. _Is this enchantment, or a fantastic stroke of fortune?_ I wonder. _What __is__ she?_ I ask myself again.

"Now that just proves how low rent you really are," Sookie taunts Denise. She seems completely at ease with the weapon in her hand and in control of the situation.

"You have any idea who you're messin' with?" Denise threatens Sookie."You don't want to be on my bad side."

"I'm not sure you even _have_ another side, you no-count, backwoods trash!" Sookie bites back. I can do nothing but watch, in stunned admiration, as she backs Denise away. Mac is still on the ground, trying desperately to uncoil the metal links around his throat. Denise turns in disgust, resolving to salvage some dignity and their ill-gotten gains, but Sookie is having none of it. "Uh-uh," she threatens with the knife. "Do not even _think_ of taking that blood." _Does she want it for herself – is that why she risked her life?_

"I will kill you for this," Denise promises, and for the first time this evening, I have no doubts about her sincerity. She drags Mac towards their truck, cursing him for his incompetence, while he begs for her help removing his choker.

Sookie peels the silver off my wrists and neck. It has burned deep gouges into my skin which smoke and smoulder. The respite from the pain is heavenly – I retract my fangs and close my eyes, resting for a moment. Sookie's reaction jolts them open again. "Shut…up!" she exclaims in amazement, marvelling at the speed with which I mend. This young woman has learned far too much about my kind tonight: silver, V, our power to heal quickly. I do not know if I can trust her. I will glamour the memory out of her once I recover sufficiently and hope it has no harmful effect on her.

Before I can say a thing, we are under attack again. The Rattrays' truck comes bearing down on us, headlights on high. Sookie grabs me under my arms to pull me back into the brush. "Push with your feet," she urges, and between both our efforts, we avoid the vehicle's tires by inches. "I'll get you, bitch," are Denise's parting words, flung out the open window like litter.

Sookie pulls me further up the incline, and rests my back up against a tree. "Oh bless your heart. I am SO sorry I didn't get here faster," she apologizes to me. "You'll be OK in a minute, right?" I look at her, puzzled. _What does she have to apologize for_? I cannot even think of a response, and the silence between us is awkward. "Do you want me to leave?" she asks.

"No!" I blurt out. She smiles at my reply. "They might come back, and I can't fight yet," I clarify. She seems disappointed with the explanation. _What does this woman want from me_? She looks at me with guileless innocence, and I feel a stirring, despite my weakened state. I fight for control; I might be in no condition to do her real harm, but I find myself reluctant to even frighten her. She reaches for the tubes and desire rips through me again; I yank my arm away. I do not trust myself with any physical contact.

Sookie misinterprets my response. "I reckon you're not too happy about being rescued by a woman!" she accuses me, annoyed. Good – it is better that she think me chauvinistic than to know the truth about the beast that I am battling.

"Thank you," I respond, removing the tubes. 

"I can't hear you," she exclaims, surprised.

"Thank you!" I repeat, louder.

Sookie drops to her knees and peers in my eyes. "No, no, I can _hear_ you but I can't…" She takes my face into her hands and closes her eyes; her face is a study in peace and contentment. I recoil initially at her touch, not trusting myself. But her hands are gentle and warm – so warm! – and I find myself surrendering to them. My desire is morphing into something else, something soft as her touch, something long forgotten. She gazes at me in wonderment. "Oh my stars!" she exclaims, mystifying me. She is standing far too close, and I long to brush her lips with mine.

"Aren't you afraid to be out here alone with a hungry vampire?" I ask, half hoping she will back away. I need some space, some "breathing room," that has nothing to do with air.

"No."

"Vampires often turn on those who trust them, you know," I warn her, with a growing sense of déjà vu.

"Well, humans turn on those who trust them, too," she replies, echoing my fantasy. Again I wonder if she is reading my mind. That thought alarms me – the fantasy is not one I would ever choose to share. She backs away, despite her proclaimed lack of fear, and wraps the silver chain around her neck. "I'm not a total fool," she says, defiantly.

I expose a bit of my darker to her; perhaps it will convince her to be more cautious. I lean towards her, my eye lids heavy and my voice gruff. "Oh, but you have other very juicy arteries. There is one in the groin that is a particular favourite of mine."

Sookie doesn't give an inch – she laces into me: "You just shut your nasty mouth, Mister," she rebukes me in no uncertain terms. "You might be a vampire, but when you talk to me, you will talk to me like the lady that I am!"

She is far stronger than I imagined. I find her fearlessness amusing. But it also arouses my suspicions again, and I decide to test her. "Want to drink the blood they collected?"

"No!" Sookie makes a face at the mere thought of it.

"I understand that it makes humans feel more healthy. Improves their sex life," I continue, making eyes at her. She dismisses the idea: "I'm as healthy as a horse, and I have no sex life to speak of, so you can just keep it."

"You could always sell it," I suggested, wondering if this was what she'd had in mind. "I wouldn't touch it," she replied, nodding as if to say "and that's that!" She appears a bit embarrassed and changes the subject: "So… _silver_, huh? I thought that only affected werewolves." Now I am alarmed. _What does she know about weres_, I wonder, _and how? Who is she working for and what is her angle?_ "I'm not implying that werewolves exist." she backtracks, mistaking my concern for ridicule. "That's just what you always see in the movies."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't share this information with anyone," I instruct her. "We don't like for our weaknesses to be made public knowledge."

Sookie gazes at me, completely serious. "Oh. OK," she nods, and from her expression and tone, I believe she understands. She stands up, never breaking eye contact. "Well, see ya, Bill. I gotta' get back to work." She saunters away, without looking back, a far more self-possessed woman than I had originally judged her to be. She has passed all my tests with flying colours. I feel ashamed of having mistrusted her, but can you blame me? My survival has depended on deceit for most of the last century and a half, so I assume that most of what I hear is lies.

But tonight, Sookie has shown me something long absent and forsaken from my life – compassion. She put herself in danger to save me, asking nothing in return. She is attracted to me, I can feel it, but that was not her motivation, at least not the only one. Her kind-heartedness humbles and inspires me. I feel another stirring – this one in my chest – one that I have not felt in years. She makes me want to do far more than mainstream; she makes me want to be decent, righteous, and_ human_ again. I am beginning to care about this woman. I no longer want just her blood and her body, I want her very _being_. I look at her through William Compton's eyes – not Vampire Bill's – and I see a future I might not loathe to live.

What _is_ she? For now, at least, I know. She is my saviour, and because of her, I will not die tonight. And – dare I hope? – she may well become my miracle, and my salvation.

END -

_Mention of Juliet is a tribute to the wonderful fan fic story from one of my favourite authors, Redandsparkly (The Hunter), available here: __.net/s/5780911/1/The_Hunter_

_A VERY special acknowledgement to my incomparable beta reader, TheNextBestThing36, without whom I would have lost my confidence, my mind, or both. She was a source of many wonderful ideas and touches, such as Denise smelling of onions and beer and looking like a Christmas ornament. You made the whole thing fun, sweetie, and so much better than it would have been. Thank you!_

_Thanks to Gaia1 for her honest and helpful review of Ch 3 – I rewrote it based on her critique, and I believe she made it a much better story. "Bless your heart," as Sookie would say!_


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